


Bleeding Heart

by JustAnotherWriter (N1ghtshade)



Category: MacGyver (TV 2016)
Genre: AU to 3x06, Creepy Murdoc (MacGyver TV 2016), Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Rape/Non-con Elements, Whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-05
Updated: 2018-11-09
Packaged: 2019-08-19 10:43:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,812
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16533041
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/N1ghtshade/pseuds/JustAnotherWriter
Summary: AU of 3x06, Murdoc+MacGyver+MurdocWhen everything about Murdoc's plan goes sideways, Murdoc is Mac's only chance of surviving. But he's not about to make it easy now that he finally has an injured, defenseless Mac at his mercy..."MacGyver gasps, stumbling back against the wall. At first Murdoc assumes he’s been shot, and then he sees the three shards of splintered wood protruding from the boy’s stomach. Oh, well, this complicates matters."





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [just_another_outcast](https://archiveofourown.org/users/just_another_outcast/gifts).



Murdoc supposes that, after the way today has gone, he should never have expected them to catch a break. The bank manager must have been suspicious of the bruises on Murdoc and MacGyver’s faces, because he pressed the silent alarm before Murdoc could draw his gun.

 _Oh well._ The look MacGyver gives him is almost comical as Murdoc tucks his gun back into his coat. _He wasn’t going to help us anyway._ And after the day he’s had, Murdoc just _had_ to let off a little steam. The boy scout’s just lucky _he’s_ not the one with a double tap to the head. _I still need him functional. And anyway, I wouldn't make it that quick._

Murdoc was lying when he said he didn’t have the patience to make someone’s death last hours. He learned plenty from Amber. And he has his own added flairs, his little signatures. On contract, he does kill quickly. Every minute a mark is left alive increases the chances of something going wrong. For all his bravado, Murdoc knows he’s not infallible. And most of his contracts are the sort where failure will result in the person who hired him putting out a bounty on _his_ head.

Not that that worries him, but it does tend to make it harder to get a job. He almost chuckles when he recalls the time he was hired to assassinate one of his own aliases. _Oh, that was fun._

There isn’t really time for laughing now. The bank’s two guards were pathetically undertrained, Murdoc took them both out in moments, right after the manager. There’s utter chaos as people realize what’s happening and begin to run for the doors. But he can already hear the sirens screaming. If he wants Cassian back, they need to get out of here. Thankfully, he has MacGyver for that. “So, what’s the plan, boy scout?” He relishes the insulted, angry look on Angus’s face.

“Well, since you killed our only lead…” he sighs. “We might be able to track your wife down if we could get ahold of a police radio.” They slip out a window of the grimy bathroom and wait until the officers rush inside. When they grab one of the cars, Angus takes a radio and calls in a request for information on Amber’s favorite alias. Murdoc’s fairly certain she’d taunt him by using that one.

The boy speaks perfect Spanish, and Murdoc is both impressed and aroused. MacGyver never ceases to surprise him. Always a new trick, a new skill, and he’s always shockingly good at it. Competence, Murdoc has long ago decided, is a _very_ attractive trait.

Unfortunately, shortly after they receive the information that Amber is staying at a hotel outside town, the dispatcher also informs them of a search for two men matching Murdoc and Angus’s descriptions, and a stolen police vehicle. The thought of being wanted doesn’t bother Murdoc, but this whole situation does make their job a little harder.

It does affect Angus. There’s a world of hurt in his eyes when he hears first his description, then the announcement that he’s wanted for murder. _Oh yes. He likes to wear the white hat._ The thought that he’s being accused of killing someone in cold blood like that is clearly making MacGyver sick.

But the upshot of this is that now, whether he will admit it or not, MacGyver _needs_ Murdoc. The boy can’t just decide to up and leave, whether or not that brute Dalton and the rest of his team find Mac’s precious little Nigerian girlfriend. He’s not going to be able to go into any airport in the country, not when bank security knows what he looks like.

Murdoc has no doubt that eventually, this news will get back to Phoenix. That that light-fingered Riley will get the bank footage and prove Angus was acting under duress. That everything will be cleared up. But that will take time. For now, in the eyes of the law, Angus MacGyver has as much blood on his hands as Murdoc does. The thought is intoxicating.

“Welcome to the dark side, boy scout,” Murdoc says, and he smiles at the revulsion and anger in MacGyver’s eyes. _Oh, I’ll break him yet._ If he’d known it was going to be this easy to rile the boy up, Murdoc would have framed him for murder a long time ago.

They can’t keep the police car, but just as Murdoc remembers from their last little road trip, Angus has a shocking talent for hotwiring cars. _This time it’s so much more fun. My hands aren’t tied, Dalton isn’t waving a gun in my face, and MacGyver is all mine._ Murdoc feels a fleeting desire to see the look on Dalton’s face whenever Murdoc taunts his boy, but ah well. One can’t have everything.

They find the hotel, and the room, without too much trouble. Murdoc is fairly certain there won’t be a warm welcome, but he can try. After all, he and Amber want the same thing. They want Cassian safe.

“Hello, Cookie, it’s me,” Murdoc calls. And then there’s a loud bang and the wooden door splinters.

MacGyver gasps, stumbling back against the wall. At first Murdoc assumes he’s been shot, and then he sees the three shards of splintered wood protruding from the boy’s stomach. _Oh, well, this complicates matters._ He hears a crash of broken glass from the room, and realizes Amber must have made her escape. _Damn it._

He kicks open the door and rushes in, but the window is smashed, and the garden below it is empty. There are some of Cassian’s drawings on the table, but Amber must have taken him with her.

Murdoc stalks back out onto the landing. MacGyver is sitting against the wall, hands pressed to the wounds in his stomach, eyes wide in panic and pain. His black shirt doesn’t show the blood, but Murdoc can see it seeping over his fingers and soaking into the waist of his pants.

Murdoc has two options. Amber can’t be that far away yet. He could go after her, find Cassian, and bring him back. But the truth is, for the moment, Cassian is, relatively speaking, safe. Amber might be psychotic, but she truly did care about Cassian. Anyone willing to spend hours cutting concrete with acid to get to him isn’t going to let harm come to him easily. Murdoc can track her down, he knows all her little secrets, all her games.

If he leaves MacGyver alone, there’s a very high probability that Angus is going to die. Murdoc has to admit he sort of expected MacGyver to already be working on something to fix this. Instead, he’s just sitting there, watching blood run over his hands. His head hit the wall when he fell back, it’s possible he has a concussion.

Murdoc’s honestly rather surprised there’s been no reaction from the motel’s owners. But this _is_ a rough neighborhood. Maybe everyone’s just decided it’s best not to interfere in any argument that involves gunfire. He hopes no one decides to report it.

Someone _will_ probably be concerned if they see the bleeding boy huddled in the stairwell. Murdoc bends over and scoops MacGyver up in his arms. Angus gasps, a shaky sobbing sound that sends a chill down Murdoc’s spine and into his stomach. _Oh lovely._ The boy’s blood drips onto his hands and down the front of his coat as he carries him into the damaged room and lays him on the bed. The filthy comforter won’t be the worse for a few bloodstains.

The single lightbulb in the room flickers sketchily, as if it might go out any second. Murdoc leans over MacGyver, who’s panting, his hands shaking, breath coming shallow and shuddery. A few tears slide down from the corners of his eyes.

Murdoc fumbles through the boy’s pockets for his trusty Swiss Army Knife. Murdoc has plenty of knives of his own, but the chance to actually use Angus’s prized one is too tempting. The last time he held it, he’d left it stabbed into the cork of a wine bottle. He regretted that later, he’d like to have left it in Angus’s shoulder instead.

MacGyver’s hands fumble at Murdoc’s, pushing the assassin’s hands away from his legs. The boy’s eyes are closed, but Murdoc doesn’t need to see his expression to know what the boy’s so afraid of.

 _Oh, believe me, I want to._ Angus can’t even push Murdoc’s hands away, he couldn’t fight back. Murdoc swallows thickly at the thought of the boy naked and bleeding on the filthy bed. _It would be perfect._ But if he takes the time for that, MacGyver will be dead when it’s over. And Murdoc would prefer to have him alive and useful, at least for a while. Still, he files away the thought. _For later. Just an idea._

When he finds the knife, he uses it to cut away the bloodsoaked shirt from around MacGyver’s wounds. The boy’s skin is so pale, it’s a marvelous contrast with the crimson slowly oozing out and trickling down his sides. Murdoc runs one finger through the blood. In a way, this reminds him of shooting the woman. The one who was calling herself Samantha. But when he shot her, when he dipped his fingers in her blood, none of it made his body ripple with warmth the way this does. _She wasn’t Angus. It was a real disappointment; I ought to have paid him a visit instead._ But the truth is, this is so much better. Here, they’re miles away from devoted Papa Bear and the rest of MacGyver’s precious little family.

Murdoc rests his gloved fingers on the edges of the wounds, probing carefully to see how deep the shards have gone. MacGyver whimpers, and that sound alone is enough to make Murdoc stop. Not because he’s causing the boy pain, oh no. But he’s never heard Angus make that sound before. He’s heard gasps, and moans, and even managed to wring out a hoarse scream in that basement. He’s seen the boy cry when Jack put pressure on his wounded shoulder in that Kansas warehouse, _and it felt good to finally leave a mark on him._ But this pitiful, weak sound? Never.

It’s music to Murdoc’s ears. He continues inspecting the injuries, cursing under his breath when he feels the extent of them. This is definitely not a good scenario. It’s certainly not going to be a simple pull-and-patch job.

Taking MacGyver to a hospital is out of the question, however. They’re both wanted, and as much as he’d love to watch MacGyver be locked behind bars in a Columbian jail, he’d prefer that the boy actually trust him a little. Saving his life is a hell of a bargaining chip. Last time, it got Murdoc a visit with his son and let him break Cassian out. This time...who knows what he might be able to ask for? But he’ll need to work fast.

There’s a bodega around the corner. Murdoc scans the grimy, pitifully understocked shelves for anything that might be helpful. He finds some cheap bandages, a couple of towels, and some bottles of rubbing alcohol. There are painkillers there too, but he bypasses them.

When he gets back to the room, Angus has barely moved. There’s even more blood running down his sides into the blankets, and it takes jabbing his injuries with a finger to rouse him enough to actually look at Murdoc.

“Well, well, you are still breathing. I hoped so.” Murdoc sets down his meager supplies. “Now, I’m certainly not you, and I’m far better at tearing people apart than putting them back together, but I think I should be able to make do. You’ll tell me if I’m doing something terribly wrong, won’t you?”

Angus glares at him.

In most cases, as any good killer knows, the most efficient way to cause death is to stab and then remove the blade. But the pieces of that door, if the rest of the room is any indication, are coated in filth. The longer they stay in MacGyver’s body, the more time they have to infect him. Murdoc will have to take them out.

Murdoc suddenly thinks of something. A way to get the most out of this experience. He props his phone on the corner of the dresser, it has a 64% charge. Hopefully that will last long enough. Maybe Papa Bear isn’t here, but there’s still a way to show him what’s happening.

Murdoc’s not stupid. From the way Angus is fading, his wounds are far too serious to be field dressed and brushed off. He’s not going to be able to help with this chase any longer. He needs a real medical facility, but getting one here is out of the question. He’s going to need some help from the Phoenix.

The phone number is humorously familiar. Murdoc can’t help but appreciate the irony of how many times he’s contacted the agency. And yet they’ve always been one step behind….

Murdoc smiles at the familiar angry faces as the video chat connects. “Well, hello, team. I’d say it’s been too long, but-”

“Put a sock in it, Murdoc,” Jack snaps. “Your game’s up. Nasha’s safe. Hey, Mac, you hear that? We found her.”

“Oh, I don’t think he heard you,” Murdoc says, and he absolutely relishes the dawning horror in all their faces. “Oh, no no no, he’s not _dead,_ it’s not that drastic.” He smiles that toothy grin that seems to chill people. “He’s just had a small disagreement with a door. Well, more accurately the psychotic bitch on the other side of it with a shotgun, but you get the picture.”  He turns the camera to show them exactly what’s happened to Angus, and the resulting gasps and one choking sound make him smile.

He can see Matty gesturing frantically to Riley. It’s sign language, and he can understand enough to know she’s asking for a trace and a call to the area police as soon as she has a location.

“Now, now, Matilda. Don’t do anything hasty. You can call the police, but they won’t come for just me. You see, they seem to think sweet, innocent Angus was just as involved in a murder as I was.” He laughs. “Why don’t you take a look at the Bogota police’s most recent BOLO?” He grins at the angry looks on their faces. “No, I think you might want to come get him yourself.”

“Then tell us where you are, so I can come down there and beat the shit out of you myself,” Jack growls.

“Oh, now that would be too easy and that’s not any fun. Go ahead and trace the call, Riley. It might take you some time, but I guarantee, you will be able to find us.”

“What are you doing?” Jack’s voice is a deadly hiss.

“Oh, well the fact of the matter is that I’m so much better at killing people than saving their lives. I think I can keep dear little Angus alive until your people come for him, but sooner or later he’s going to need a real doctor. Which is what I need you for.”

“You sick bastard,” Jack snaps.

“You know, if you keep talking about me like that, I might decide to stop helping,” Murdoc says in a cheerful, singsong voice, as he cracks open the first bottle of alcohol and splashes some on his gloves. There’s no sound until he starts pouring more around the edges of the door fragments, and MacGyver jerks upright with a strangled scream.

Riley and Matty are both gasping, it sounds like Wilt might be gagging. But Jack is screaming.

“When I find you I’m going to tear you apart!”

“Oh, if you won’t be quiet, I’ll just mute it, then.” He mutes the call and sets down the phone. He’d like to hear their reactions, but he wants to hear MacGyver’s cries more.

He unbuckles the boy’s belt, and MacGyver gasps, trying to sit up, hands flailing in terror. When his movement jars the shards of wood in his stomach, he bites back a scream and falls back to the bed, sobbing.

“Oh, don’t worry, Angus, I’m going to leave your dignity intact for now. It’s just that if we don’t want those pesky cops to find us, I’m going to need you to not scream.” He pulls the belt free and smiles at the full-body shudder it causes Angus to make. He tucks it between the boy’s teeth, tracking the outline of his soft lips with a finger before turning back to his work.

Two of the pieces are buried fairly shallowly. Still, Murdoc pulls them out slowly, relishing the boy’s clenched teeth, the streaming tears, the soft little whimpers that slip past the belt in his mouth.

The third is the concerning one. Murdoc’s considered leaving it. But the edges of the punctures are already red and swollen, and there might be the beginnings of some pus. _How truly disgusting._ Another reason Murdoc likes to kill quickly. Blood is a pleasant sight. Some other things are not.

When he tugs at that last piece, a strangled scream rips out of MacGyver’s throat. Murdoc should be angry, but instead he pauses, savoring the sound as it echoes off the bare walls. He glances at the phone, and he notices that only Riley, Bozer and Matty are still there. He doubts Jack has a weak stomach, they must have a lead on his location. He finishes dragging out the shard of wood, smiling every time he manages to also pull another scream from the agonized boy.

It’s truly not as bad as he’d been afraid of. There’s no gout of blood, and it looks like the boy’s internal organs are staying where they’re supposed to. He was fortunate this deep splinter was more to the side than the other two. Still, that doesn’t mean he’s by any means safe.

He picks up the bottle of alcohol, and holds it up where MacGyver can see it, that is, if his bleary, pain-drugged eyes are capable of focusing on anything right now. The boy must be able to tell what it is, because those eyes widen with fear for what’s coming.

“You and I both know that if I don’t clean these wounds, you’ll get an infection. God only knows what filth was on that door.” Without any further explanation, he upends the bottle, letting the contents splash onto the open wounds.

Angus screams, head thrown back, the belt leather falling out of his mouth. His whole body is a tense, strained string of pain, vibrating. And Murdoc is the musician coaxing out the notes. Just as suddenly as it begins, it’s over. Murdoc is still disinfecting the wounds, but it appears the combination of pain and blood loss has made MacGyver black out.

Murdoc finishes, pasting bandages over the wounds, which have stopped seeping so much blood. Still, everything is coated with it. Murdoc’s hands, MacGyver’s body, the bed, all of the boy’s clothes…

It’s certainly not a necessary move. Murdoc has already cut the cloth away from the injuries, it doesn’t pose any risk of infection. This is just for fun. He’s not sure if he’d have done it without the silent audience on the video screen...yes, he would have. It’s just _too_ tempting.

And now that Angus is unconscious, Murdoc can enjoy the others’ anger without it drowning out those sweet screams. He unmutes the video and immediately gets an earful of Matilda Webber, the director of the Phoenix Foundation, cursing him out like some grizzled old sailor. He smiles.

“Well, it’s a shame Jack’s going to miss this. I’d have loved to see his face. But you’ll do.” He sets the phone down again and returns to the bed.

He starts by cutting away what’s left of MacGyver’s shirt. This time, his actions are gentle. The boy doesn’t really need to be awake for this part. Better to surprise him. Matty and Riley’s angry voices fade into a sort of background hum while he works.

His shoes are the next to go, and Murdoc takes a minute to appreciate the tough laces, tucking them into his pocket as a souvenir. He wonders how many times they’ve been replaced after MacGyver’s used them for one of his inventions. The shoes look old, but the laces are far newer.

All that’s left are socks, pants, and underwear, and then the boy’s soft, pale body is fully visible. Even wounded and bleeding, he’s almost statuesque. Murdoc runs a finger over one of the half-curled hands, with those long clever fingers. He was in Florence once, for a hit, and he spent part of the day waiting exploring the art galleries. Most people are surprised if they ever learn he has a fascination with art, they can’t understand how someone they call soulless can enjoy something so inherently soulful. But oh, he’s more than able to appreciate the soul in others…

He remembers visiting the famous Michelangelo’s _David_ , supposedly the pinnacle of the male form. Looking down at Angus, he thinks this is probably the closest a living human will come to that perfection.

He rests one hand on the boy’s thigh, admiring the soft skin, the small dark scar. He wonders what made that one, what story is behind it. _Who else damaged him? That’s my job._ Riley and Matty have stopped talking. Maybe they think if they’re quiet they’ll avoid making this worse, somehow.

Angus blinks awake. Murdoc can feel the fever heat running through him, clearly they weren’t in time to prevent infection. _Good thing I called for someone to come collect him._

MacGyver stares at Murdoc with an absolutely delicious mixture of anger, reproach, and shame. “What did you do with my clothes?”

“Oh, they were all covered in blood,” Murdoc says casually. _In retrospect, that may have been a mistake._ The boy’s exposed, sweat-covered body is tempting. But he’s certainly not strong enough for anything Murdoc might want to do. He can barely keep his eyes open. _I don’t want to kill him yet._

He settles for running his fingers through Angus’s hair, smoothing back the thick, sweat-soaked tangle falling into his eyes. He’s grown it out again, and Murdoc can’t help but feel a soft twinge of nostalgia. This is what Angus looked like when they first met.

He glances up at the screen and realizes that the call has been cut off. _Oh, how precious._ He wonders when that happened, he was a bit preoccupied. _Before or after he was naked?_ Murdoc will be sure to leave the phone here; it’s number is in the Phoenix systems now. So he might as well take advantage of that. Because anything the team finds here will be evidence, they’ll _have_ to look through it. He takes plenty of pictures, smiling at the thought of Riley having to sort through them after she breaks the phone’s encryption, at the thought of sweet, shy Angus having to look her in the eyes afterward. He takes out his backup phone for some photos he’ll hold onto; there’s no way he’s leaving the Phoenix team with something he’s denied to himself. They won’t appreciate it like he will.

The boy’s fever is rising, sweat spilling off his face and chest. He keeps blinking confusedly at Murdoc, and a couple times attempts to roll away. He doesn’t get very far before his wounds stop him with more of those pitiful little whimpers.

Over that sound, Murdoc becomes aware of the soft thump of helicopter rotors. He sets his old phone carefully on the bed next to Angus, then climbs out the same window Amber used to escape. He’ll slip around the building, hide somewhere abandoned until dark, and then make his move. Amber and Cassian are still out there in the wind. But he’ll find them.

Murdoc wishes he could see Jack’s face when he bursts into that motel room, when he sees his precious “Mac” sick and bleeding and naked on that bed. _But ah well, one can’t have everything._


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A lot of people requested a follow up of some kind to this fic, so here it is! Enjoy!

The flight to Bogota seems to take years. Jack’s itching to have his boots on the ground and be able to put his gun to Murdoc’s head. At this point he’s more than ready to blow that bastard’s brains out, because it’s clear prison won’t hold him if he doesn’t want to be there.

Today started out bad and it’s only gotten worse. From the minute Mac called them and Jack realized he was with Murdoc, he knew something bad was going to happen. He’d managed to distract himself from worrying about Mac being somewhere with that psychopath, and instead focused on finding Nasha. But as soon as they got the frightened girl safely back to Phoenix, Jack’s fear had returned full force. Bozer had tried to get him to relax, saying if Murdoc needed Mac’s help he was going to leave Mac alive, but that hasn’t reassured Jack at all.  _ Not killing him leaves a lot of space for other things.  _

Jack’s known from the first time they crossed paths with that psychopath that Murdoc’s interest in Mac has gone well beyond ‘worthy opponent’. Their little impromptu road trip last year only confirmed Jack’s fears. Murdoc’s stares every time he and Mac were face to face were nothing short of a burning lust. 

And then Jack’s third worst fear was confirmed when an unknown number called into the War Room and Captain Nutbar’s smiling evil face filled the screen. Jack’s fear had channeled itself into a show of bravado, a taunt.  _ Mac needs to know he can leave whenever he wants. Nasha’s safe, he can come home.  _ And then Murdoc had panned the camera over to the bed of a dingy, filthy motel room, and there was Mac, bleeding and unconscious. 

Murdoc, that bastard, knew he had the team where he wanted them.  _ He got Mac away from anyone who could protect him.  _ Murdoc claims the whole thing was an accident, but Jack wouldn’t put it past the man to have intentionally pushed Mac into the line of fire. Sure, it goes against the logic of needing Mac’s help, but when it comes to MacGyver, Murdoc has never seemed to have much common sense. He’s risked his safety time and time again for a chance to hurt Mac, why would he stop now?

It only got worse from there. Jack could do nothing but shout helplessly as Murdoc began his own cruel brand of first aid. He hoped Mac could hear his voice, that maybe that would ground him somehow, help with the clearly unendurable pain.  _ I’ve always been there for him when he’s hurt. _ Jack can’t imagine not being there for Mac to hold onto to ride out the pain. But now it’s happened.

And then Murdoc had the audacity to calmly act as if Jack’s words were distressing him, and muted the call. Jack wanted to scream himself hoarse but it wouldn’t do any good. Instead, he watched the whole ordeal silently while Riley ran her trace. He was still geared up from getting Nasha back, he didn’t need to head back to the tac room with the team he knew was getting ready to roll as soon as Riley got location. Watching the video was torture, but it was no more than Jack deserved.  _ You let him down. He’s in horrifying pain. You don’t get to look away. _

The War Room screen was mirrored to his phone when Riley got the location and Jack ran for the chopper. He couldn’t leave not knowing what was happening to Mac. He didn’t want to charge in blind, if possible. 

Now he’s watching Murdoc yank the last of the three ugly spikes of wood out of Mac’s stomach. He knows his feed is delayed, because he hears the faint screams from the video through his comms before it comes through on his phone in a heartbreaking echo. He’s had to put earbuds in; the rest of the team with him is cringing and the new guy looks sick. Jack can’t really blame him. Seeing Murdoc pulling out those shards of wood, clearly enjoying every scream, is making Jack feel like he’ll never be able to sleep again.  _ When I find that monster, I’m going to kill him. Slowly. _

Jack’s hands are clenching around each other, for lack of being able to hold Mac’s. He aches for the kid’s long fingers wrapping around his, the crushingly strong grip, the implicit trust he always sees in those blue eyes even when he has to do the unimaginable to try and keep Mac alive. But now his boy is in the hands of a sick, twisted psychopath who’s clearly making this as painful as possible. 

It’s a relief to hear Mac’s screams die off as he passes out while Murdoc roughly cleans his wounds. Jack feels his stomach clench in helpless anguish at the hard lines of pain creasing Mac’s face even now.  _ I’m so sorry, buddy. I’m gonna get you out. I’m coming. _

And then Murdoc stalks back to the camera, and his eyes are burning with a dark fire Jack knows too well.  _ No. No. This is wrong. You can’t. _

Apparently Murdoc’s turned the sound on again, because Matty starts cursing him out with every word Jack knows and then some. He wasn’t aware she spoke Portuguese. 

Murdoc only smiles, and there’s a twistedness to the expression.  _ I don’t think he’s capable of smiling like a normal human being.  _ And then he turns back to the bed. 

Jack can’t hold in his angry shouts and the beginnings of gut-wrenching sobs as he watches Murdoc start to cut away what’s left of Mac’s shirt.  _ I can’t watch this.  _  He wants to fling the phone out of the chopper into the water below them, but he can’t. He feels frozen, unable to look away.  _ Please, please, don’t do this to him. _

He forgets he’s on a flight with ten other Phoenix agents. He screams, “You have a son, you’d do anything to get him back, so you listen to me, because that is my son and I love him more than you are capable of ever loving yours. So when I find you I’m going to tear you to shreds.” But if Murdoc can hear him, he doesn’t give any indication. He simply continues removing Mac’s clothes, pausing to run his hands over the helpless, unconscious body.  _ Yes, take your time, you monster. _ Jack prays it will be long enough for them to get there before the unthinkable happens. But he already knows it won’t be. 

When Murdoc strips away the last of Mac’s clothes and gently rests a hand on his thigh, Jack is sick. He barely manages to lean out of the side of the helicopter before he vomits, throat raw with acid, tears streaming down his face. 

When he gets control of himself, he can’t bear to glance at the phone. Until he realizes the call has gone dead silent. The screen is black. 

From the other end of the comms all he hears is soft gasping breaths. And then Matty’s voice. “We’ve lost connection. Riley’s trying to get it back, but…” Jack’s not sure if seeing would be worse than not seeing. He leans his head back against the cold metal, feeling tears pouring down his face.  _ I’ve had nightmares about this happening. But oh God I never thought this would be real.  _ He’s worried, he’s feared, but somewhere in the back of his mind, all this time, was the thought that this just couldn’t, wouldn’t, happen. But it has.

Now there’s only two thoughts in his mind. Find Mac and bring him home, and end Murdoc forever. 

When he hears the soft ping that announces they’re arriving at the location Riley traced, it feels like two days have passed. Jack immediately draws his gun. He’s the first one out of the chopper, leading the way to the front of the motel. It’s not hard to find the room Mac’s likely in, the door has a massive hole in it. 

Jack’s dimly aware of the comm chatter as the rest of the tac team starts securing the exits. He rushes up the stairs, fully prepared to encounter the absolutely unthinkable. If he sees Murdoc he’s going to shoot him right then and there. No attempts at playing fair, giving the man a chance to surrender. They passed playing fair a long time ago, when Murdoc decided to take advantage of Mac’s defenselessness. 

But when he shoves the door open, he only sees Mac. Lying on his back on the bed, just the way he was in the video. He’s shivering now, probably from an infection and fever. Any thought Jack has of revenge is pushed out entirely by one pounding refrain.  _ Get to Mac. _ He doesn’t even clear the room, unable to think straight as he crashes to his knees beside the bed. Mac’s shaking, whimpering, covered in sweat.

He doesn’t dare try and turn Mac to get a look at any other damage that might have been done, he risks tearing open one of the wounds in his stomach.  _ If Murdoc...did that, he might have made everything so much worse. _ Jack feels lightheaded and sick and wobbly.  _ What if Mac dies because of it? What am I going to do? _

Dimly, he’s aware that the other tac team members behind him are clearing the room, giving the medevac team an all clear to come in and retrieve Mac. Jack just twists his hand into the kid’s limp fingers, hoping for an answering squeeze. But there’s nothing. 

He can feel the other members of the tac team crowding around. They’re staring, they didn’t know what was happening like Jack did. He wants to push them all away, to cover Mac up away from curious eyes. He’s already been humiliated enough. But he can’t move. 

And then the medics are untangling his hand from Mac’s, pushing him out of the way. Jack stumbles back, watching as two of them carefully lift Mac and lay him on the stretcher they’ve brought. 

“Wait,” Jack gasps hoarsely. “Can you tell me...has he been…” He can’t bring himself to say it. If he says it it happened.

The older of the two medics, a woman Jack’s met on multiple occasions, gives him a sympathetic glance. Motioning to her partner, she carefully turns Mac, and even though Jack knows it’s necessary for her to look he still feels sick at this further invasion of Mac’s privacy, the added humiliation. 

“No. I can’t tell you for certain without doing a full exam, which I don’t have time for, but it doesn’t appear he was raped.” Jack sighs, sitting down hard on the filthy, bloodstained bed.  _ Thank God. _ He sends up a fervent thanks to the Big Man for whatever he did to keep Murdoc from going any further.  _ That’s nothing short of a miracle. _

He refuses to leave Mac’s side when they put him on the medevac chopper. The medical team is already starting to clean the wounds, and one of them’s putting in an IV drip, but Jack still keeps a tight grip on Mac’s hand.

Suddenly there’s a bone crushing return of his hold, and Mac gasps, flinching awake. He glances around, eyes wide and clearly not aware of his surroundings. “No, no, no,” he whispers weakly, free hand batting at the young man trying to secure the IV.

“Easy, bud, it’s just us. We’re taking you home,” Jack says gently. “It’s okay. It’s over.”

Mac turns fever-bright eyes to Jack’s face. Jack can’t tell if it’s recognition or resignation that he sees before Mac slips under into unconsciousness again. Mac’s sweating even more, his hair dark and dripping with it. Jack’s no doctor, but he listens to the chatter of the medical team trying to stabilize the kid, and it doesn’t sound great. Apparently the rapid onset of infection is because at least one of those chunks of wood nicked Mac’s intestine. They’re going to have to head for the closest hospital, flying to Texas instead of going home.

There’s no sign of Murdoc on the ground. Jack can hear the rest of the tac team over comms getting ready to make the return flight. He doesn’t feel angry, or cheated, or anything. He just feels numb. Murdoc should be dead, for this. But right now that’s not Jack’s top priority. 

Jack hates waiting in strange hospitals. At least at the Phoenix, his family’s there to sit with him, or at the very least he can go down to the training room and destroy a punching bag. But in the Houston waiting room, all he can do is sit in a cold blue plastic chair and wait to hear something. 

He fumbles through his pockets for something, anything, and he finds a stash of paperclips he always hangs onto for Mac. Wiping away the few tears, he starts pulling them apart, trying to make something out of them the way the kid does.  _ How the hell does he manage? _ Jack’s barely able to twist a malformed semblance of a longhorn’s head. It looks more like a blob with arms, really. 

He’s still waiting for any information on Mac’s condition when Matty, Boze, and Riley show up. All three look like they’ve aged five years. Jack knows they heard the same report he did, but just like him, they’re still not ready to relax until it’s confirmed that Murdoc’s done nothing more than treat Mac’s wounds in his own torturous way. 

Riley sits down next to Jack, eyes wide and teary, reaching for the hand holding the paperclip monstrosity. When Jack asks her what’s wrong, she bursts into sobs and whispers, “He took pictures. On the phone they found. There were so many pictures, Jack.” He holds her and lets her cry. 

Finally a nurse steps into the hallway. “Family of Angus MacGyver?” Jack and Matty both stand up at the same time. 

“That’s us,” Matty says, with a suspicious tremble in her voice. 

“It was touch and go for a while, but he’s out of danger for the moment. The surgery was a success, thankfully the infection had been partially stalled by whatever treatment he was given initially. We’ve got him on a strong course of antibiotics, and he’s not going to be cleared for travel for a couple weeks, but he’s strong. He’ll be fine.”

At some point during all this, Matty’s hand has slipped into Jack’s and is squeezing tightly. Riley’s leaning on his shoulder crying, and Bozer is standing so close to Matty he’s pressing her against Jack’s leg.  

“Can we see him?” Jack asks.

“In a few minutes. He’s still being moved to his room. We’ll come get you when he’s settled.” The nurse walks away, and Jack turns to the others. The incredible weight of guilt settling on his chest is fading. Mac’s alive, he’s going to be okay. 

It feels like forever before they’re allowed into the room. The nurses argue that it’s against protocol to let so many people into a room with such a fragile patient, but one glare from Matty and Jack is enough to silence the protests. 

Jack didn’t think it was possible for the kid to look any worse than he did naked and bleeding and feverish in that motel room, but now he almost looks like a corpse. Mac seems so small and fragile underneath the blankets, the green hospital gown leaching out any color that might have been left in his cheeks. He’s sleeping restlessly, clearly still feverish, but he’s still breathing. That’s the only thing that softens the knot Jack’s heart has twisted itself into.

Jack takes the chair closest to the bed, and no one objects. They all know he’s been terrified for Mac’s safety for the past twenty-four hours.  _ My job is to stop stuff like this from happening to him.  _ Hours pass. Riley and Bozer fall asleep, young enough to pass out in uncomfortable chairs. Even Matty eventually falls victim, despite the two cups of crappy reception area coffee she downed. 

Jack can feel himself nodding as well, the events of the past two days catching up with him. And then the hand in his gives a faint squeeze. Jack blinks, suddenly wide awake. “Mac?” he whispers quietly.

“J-jack? What happened?” Mac’s voice is a weak, hoarse echo of his normal tone. Jack’s surprised he hasn’t lost his voice completely after the screaming he’d heard on that video. 

“You’re safe. We found you.” Jack’s not sure how much Mac remembers. The less the better. 

“What...what did he do...he didn’t…” Mac starts to shiver, teeth chattering. Jack rubs his hand gently.

“No, he didn’t hurt you. When he called the Phoenix, he said he was trying to patch you up, and it looks like he was telling the truth, for whatever it’s worth.” Hopefully Mac didn’t wake up for what happened after. 

“B-but he took...he took my clothes, Jack,” Mac whispers. “And I don’t...I don’t remember, I-I don’t  _ know…” _ He’s agitated, shattered voice rising as much as it can. “He kept  _ touching me, _ I was so scared…”

“He’d never going to touch you again, you hear me?” Jack’s never going to let Mac out of his  _ sight _ again. Not when that monster is still on the loose. “The next time he tries to lay a finger on your I’m going to put a bullet in his skull, I swear to God.” He reaches up to brush Mac’s sweat-stiffened hair out of his eyes, and Mac cringes away.

“No, don’t. He...he kept doing that. Please don’t.” Jack wants to cry again.  _ How dare that monster turn something that’s meant to be comforting into just another source of fear? _ He settles for rubbing circles on the back of Mac’s hand with his thumb. 

The kid drifts back to sleep, but it’s barely another hour before he wakes up screaming hoarsely from a nightmare. This time, Jack ignores every protest from the nurse who responded, climbs into the bed, and holds Mac tightly against him. “It’s okay, kid, I got you. I got you.” He can feel Mac shivering against him, the self-conscious shuddering when the kid starts to pull away a little, swiping at his face and trying to swallow down the tears. “Mac, it’s okay. No one minds if you cry.” 

He sniffles softly, glancing at Riley and Matty and Bozer. They’re all clustered around the bed now, asleep again. Riley has one arm flung across the bed, resting against Mac’s side. “They know, don’t they?” Jack doesn’t have to ask what Mac means.

“Yes, but they don’t care. Mac, it wasn’t your fault, none of it was. You have nothing to be ashamed of. What Murdoc did is on him.”

“But that doesn’t make it feel any different,” Mac whispers softly. “I still feel dirty. Like I’m never going to be able to stop thinking that that’s how he sees me now. That that’s how all of you will see me.”

“Oh, no, Mac. No.” Jack rubs a hand gently over the kid’s back.  _ Yeah, I’m not gonna be able to stop thinking about that for a long time, seeing it in my nightmares, but it doesn’t mean I’m going to treat Mac any differently, except maybe be even more protective.  _ “You know nothing, nothing, could change the way we treat you.”

“Yes, it will. You’ll try to protect me.” Mac looks straight into Jack’s eyes. “I know you’re thinking of a million ways to keep me safe, and every way you want to kill him.”

“Can you blame me? That’s the second time that maniac has taken you from your own house.” Jack pulls the kid a little closer. “Mac, as well as you know me, I know you too. You’re thinkin’ you don’t want everyone else to be going out of their way to protect you. But we all think you’re worth it. We all care about you enough to do it. So please, let us do our jobs so you can do yours.”

When they get home, Jack’s going to have Matty call the people who set up  _ her _ security and have them make Mac’s house as safe as is humanly possible.  _ I’m not going to let him argue me down again. This isn’t gonna happen on my watch.  _ And until that house is rigged up tighter than Fort Knox, Mac is sleeping at Jack’s apartment. No protest.  _ I’m not letting him out of my sight for a good long time. _

Mac drifts back to sleep, one hand fisted in Jack’s shirt, and Jack pulls the blankets over them both. They have a long way to go before anything is remotely close to okay again. But he has Mac back, and for now, that’s good enough.

His phone pings,  _ yes I’m not supposed to have it in the room but oh well. I forgot about it, so sue me _ . Jack glances at it. Some blocked number. Suddenly cold, he clicks on the message, even though he knows it’s a mistake. 

It’s a picture of Mac, lying naked on that motel bed,  _ everything _ on full display. And two lines of text below it.  **Tell him I’m grateful to have had such a marvelous time, and that I have Cassian back safe and sound. Until we meet again, Dalton.**

This time, Jack’s the one who breaks his own phone. He lays there, taking deep, struggling breaths, until he hears a soft voice.

“Jack? Is everything okay? What was that?”

“Just dropped my phone, bud.” Jack wraps his arm a little tighter around Mac.  _ What else is he going to do to this poor kid?  _ Now Murdoc has another piece of leverage, another thing to use against Mac. Jack feels sick at the thought of these pictures being used as blackmail. Or worse, of Murdoc skipping the idea of extorting anything at all, and just sharing the images with whoever he wants, tearing down Mac’s dignity shred by shred until the kid’s ashamed to look anyone in the eyes. Jack can’t even imagine what would happen then. Mac would be a hundred times more humiliated and terrified than he is now.  _ He’d crumble. _

Murdoc’s always been stacking the deck against them. Jack looks down at Mac huddled against him, and the determination in his mind sparks into a burning, dead-set rage.  _ We’re going to hunt that monster to the ends of the earth. And when I find him, nothing is going to stop me from ending him.  _


End file.
